You Are Champion.

You are none other than champion!

Restless for the wind to move,

in motion,

in reverse forwards,

being still, for the sake of language,

You ramble, often

looking inward for conversations about gladiators or men,

or separation of complete false manhood,

America,

Gaps of common,

misuse of parenting or childhood- be it as it may, 

the artist creates moments on canvas to 

express,

remove,

regain,

rebirth,

Remember now,

You are none other than Champion!

of will,

or relentless moving on from the difficult,

you raised yourself on cereal spelling and

pages of scribble text dictionary words,

David Bowie was father,

“Crawling down the alley on your hands and knee

I'm sure you're not protected, for it's plain to see

The diamond dogs are poachers and they hide behind trees

Hunt you to the ground they will, mannequins with kill appeal”

Diamond Dogs were mother,

“Come out of the garden baby, baby

You’ll catch your death in the fog”,

Dip your hair below,

in the water with gold fingers,

it is time for the Wild Man to surface,

despite all despite’s

or just because’s,

Remember now!

You are none other than Champion! 

...Ty Clark

Amongst the "Thin Places".

The last week and a half has been a time of deep thinking, creating and living in the "thin places" (places on earth where the Presence is so strong that they serve as portals between this world and another.) There are specific things that make my soul complete, things that I have seemed to move away from over the last few years.  My moments of "movement" as I have been calling them in Ethiopia and now Zimbabwe have taken me back into those “thin places” that I find while painting in my studio, writing in a small cafe, or spending time in creation.  Here are a few poems from those moments in the last week, accompanied by the places and people that have inspired my soul here in Africa. Time has once again stood still,

here on the other side of the waters,

my thoughts are moving like the wind

in memory through the trees,

it feels like floating,

symbolic yet mysterious,

as it was once said,

“Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters”,

I disappear in thoughts of the beginning,

my eyes focused, follow the fog,

as it slowly walks amidst the reeds and grass with

no where to go but away,

I think of eternity being here, now,

I exhale…

The clouds rest misty over the Ethiopian skies,

miles of green run wild through the vast open air,

the great wild exists beyond the hills,

what are the stories that have gone before me?

where are the souls that have left to early, my thoughts flow with the breeze,

I want to stay, I want to learn,

I want to read the faces and put pen to paper,

so that you can feel the beauty and the weight…

Grew up with freedom and never knew a struggle,

other than mental or spiritual,

we truly are a reflection of everyone,

Yet circumstance and culture seem to change the colors and dreams,

we are skin, bone and water,

we breath by miracles and magic,

the wind still feels the same and tears still feel as wet,

our faces tell story or hide it, and I wonder,

I observe and I ask,

when is my time? how can I be? a

s the wings of the seraphim hold me,

my lungs show dust and my hands feel clay,

this is now, this is today, this is forever...

The walls are cracked and peeling,

feet worn down and hands full of story,

I feel the sun from the corner,

bringing warmth and color into space that breaths life,

this is perfection, a beauty rarely seen,

there is movement here,

a presence of the divine,

and my soul sways,

my heart gives,

my eternity echoes,

I feel, I know, I see...

I can not be plural.

Nervously I confiscate beats in this propaganda’d mindthat rests on a twisting pole fastened atop burdened shoulders, weight, fracture, melody, drum, kick, flow, movements ease past breakpoints and stare passed misty eyes and malnutritioned passions, mouth off to air if you think it helps, conceited; you look like everyone else to me, judgmental jewels around your wrist neck that holds your small head in minimal thought patterns, daylight and missed steps draw upon cracks in the sidewalk, how’s her back doing these days, anyway? resting cases in juried sheets that the cold holds dear as the body shivers from entering, this sums it all up, 5+ worry and 18x alright doesn’t get us numerically closer in any respect, lead me on towards winters chill and the moons soft mist, because clinging to dusty walls only begs of handshakes that fall flat and stiff, for, I am the one sitting and writing in the early AM, borrowing time from the early arrival of the sun, the light, fingers weary, yet, thoughts vomiting in type, iridescent bulbs flicker and annoy, but I am just one, in the singular, boy… SAMO4PREZ 2009

Film Short- Poetry

Well, it has been pretty damn freezing here in North Texas this last week!  I feel like I am back home in the Sierra Nevada's except I am not.  I sold a few paintings this week, so I am on a high despite not being able to go out and brave the bitter chill in my studio, known as Jeremy's garage.  I have been on a mental explosion of creative thought during this "freeze" so it has been frustrating not being able to paint.  I have done quite a bit of design, video and forecasting for my fashion line "Veritas" but my creative thirst has been unable to be quenched the last few days, which means me staying up until 3 or 4am writing out ideas (in my idea journal) or watching foreign films.  Early this morning at about 12:15am I looked out the window (I had been waiting the entire night previous for snow flakes to fall) and snow was pouring from the sky, so I ran outside to play after screaming "THE SNOW IS HERE!  IT IS HERE!" in the house scaring our roommates half to death.  I took my little Flip cam and recorded some small clips to go with a poem I wrote the night before.  I didn't write much poetry in 2010 due to finishing my first novel and starting a second.  I needed to keep feeding my creative fire so I decided to put together a little spoken word piece.  I also haven't created any music in the last few years, so i figured it is a perfect time to create sound as well.  Anyways, here is the finished project.  A little sloppy.  But that is how I like things anyways, imperfect, blemished, and raw.  I hope you enjoy it. [vimeo=http://vimeo.com/19588784]

Sacrament of Winter Heavy sounds ring like madness in the still while the chill of ice on wind is felt upon fingertips & slow breathing,

steam from the cup filled warmth sings mighty in in the vast winter eve

pen remembers paper and thoughts forget names and faces, long gone, they are long gone,

the street lamp rests alone on the corner with frozen liquid between the steels ridges and cracks like ones identity wrapped up in design and flaw, its only february, the second step for a new year

unwind, unwind and fall into moments of literary depth from shelves of old listening to stories from generations of grandfathered words, rest by the fire as flames speak of all that is good and passed onward,

this is time stood still this is the sacrament of reconciling what once was and still could be. SAMO4PREZ